Leaves and Flame
by A Vague Shape In The Dark
Summary: Small moments in the lives of various female Twin Peaks residents and/or visitors. Drabbles so far: Shelly, Donna, Sarah, Josie, Maddy, the Log Lady, Denise, Audrey, Annie, Laura, Harriet and Gersten. Chapter 6 contains drug use and pairs Laura with Ronette.
1. Shelly

Disclaimer: I do not claim any rights to the characters in any of these stories.

A/N: Forgive grammatical errors. I try but it's never enough.  
Please leave a PM or review with your thoughts.

* * *

She heard the door open and saw his swaying shadow take a few awkward steps before mindlessly flaying its arms out to the side.

_Bobby._

A thousand pins raised beneath the skin of her arms and moved rapidly, as though currents of electricity, to flood the fragile bone behind her ears; wherein they landed with soft fluid bursts. She shook the seizure from her flesh and smiled without him knowing.

He crept from behind, his hands about her waist; a silent mouth grazing an earlobe.

An immense pressure began to build under her collar and above her heart as this commenced, and quickly it became her main focus. She pretended he was not there and finished tucking Leo securely into bed. Bobby pressed in closer. She felt his lips longingly touch the crown of her head, then his hand take hold of her own as she was pulled into the next room.

"Bobby," her voice was edged with laughter as she moved, "what are you doing?"

He turned, smiled and without a word lead Shelly through the back door. A hand limply placed over her eyes, and another on her shoulder so as to guide her.

Shelly could feel grass, cool and damp, beneath her bare feet and a breeze with the same icy touch as water grace spots of her uncovered flesh.

Bobby stopped and removed his hand from over her eyes. "I know this isn't what you meant when you said you wanted to go out, but..."

Before her, surrounded by the trunks of trees, lay a blanket with a small picnic basket at its side. Several candles of different colors and sizes burned idly amidst weeds and roots.

She lowered to her knees, and for a reason unknown to her, was overcome by the desire to run.

She fell further to her elbows, her hand grasping at the hair she'd piled loosely on her head. Breathing in, absorbing the cold air, she smiled despite the urgings of her heart.

_No escape._

"Shelly?" she heard him say.

"Thank you, Bobby," she said, her voice muffled.

"I know things have been rough lately. I just want you to know that... I care."

Bobby collapsed, can first, in a mass of plaid beside her. Rolling gently from side to side, he fingered the fraying ends of the blanket. His eyes strayed to the sky, his teeth showing without his knowledge.

Shelly rolled on her back and looked to him, absent and tired. "Let's stay out long enough to see the moon over the trees."

"Sure, baby, sure," Bobby said softly, placing a hand under his head and crossing his legs.

The wind blew through the branches above, rocking them against one another, threatening to uproot their bodies. The white noise of movement; of heavy waves, machinery, and fear drew Shelly into its folds.

The notion of a sinewy thread connected and being pulled from her heart, so that it could be dragged to the unknown abiding within the forest, entered her mind and physically she felt it.

She imagined the towering flames of a great living fire, and saw the dirt not as itself but the bones and decay that make it whole.

Movement caught her eye in the distance. It appeared to be the make of a man crawling from a dank fissure of Earth. Panicking she turned away, but when she dared look again she found that it had all the time been the shadow of an owl.

She breathed in sharply and thought herself a fool. Pain simultaneously shot through her arms, then beneath her breasts to her ribs, reminding her that eventually she would die.

"Shel, baby, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I think I've been inside too long, that's all."

Bobby studied her face. The wind blew a tear from under her eye to her wrist, and he bent to kiss it.

"I love you, Bobby. I love you." She cupped his face in her hands.

Bobby's reply was a kiss before rolling to his stomach and pulling the basket closer. "Aren't you going to eat? We got another one of Norma's left-over peanut butter chocolate pies..." he opened the basket and searched further, "some turkey sandwiches..."


	2. Audrey

Beneath the table she crossed her feet.

He was silent, eating breakfast over the paper a few tables away and she let herself drink him in.

In moments alone in her room she would picture him laying in the emptiness of her bed. Closing her eyes to the untouched sheets, she would extend her curled fingers to grasp the hand of a living ghost. At times bringing his cold, unseen hands to her parted lips, swearing she could feel his vaporous touch, his warm breath over her neck.

Flushed, she left her chair and walked toward the dark agent. One foot slowly before the other, her face toward the ceiling, her fingers loosely laced together.

She claimed an empty seat beside him and smiled when he peered over the paper.

"Sometimes looking into the eyes of a person is a bad thing," she started, dreamily, "you know, because they're supposed to be the window to the soul, right? Well, what happens when you find yourself drawn to a person who appears to have a bad soul? Someone who gives you an eerie feeling. You can't pretend you don't see their wicked side, but you do just because you don't want to give them up."

"You shouldn't ignore it. That feeling is more than likely spot-on."

Audrey chewed on her lower lip, eying Agent Cooper's tie, his eyes - the few bits of syrupy ham left on his plate - then his eyes again.

"Do you think people who are lost for years are capable of coming back the same as they were before they left?"

"Yes."

"But what do you do while they're lost? When in their eyes all you can see darkness...?"

"Are you thinking of anyone in particular, Audrey?"

She let her focus fall to the tabletop, her fingers tracing circles over its edge. "No... Well, not really. I thought I saw something dark behind Laura's eyes, but I told myself I didn't." Audrey's gaze met his, suddenly serious. "I know I saw darkness in Laura. Sometimes her eyes were so distant, so... I don't know how to describe them. But other times they were fine. You know, once I saw her cry with happiness over something Johnny did, and she didn't even look like the same person..."

Rain could be heard falling outside the window.

"Laura had many sides. So many we may never entirely know who she was. But one thing we know for certain is that she was brave. Regardless of what was revealed of her inner torment, the goodness of her soul overcame great evil. And not many people are in possession of such strength."

Turning to the window, Audrey looked to the rain. "You are..." she whispered to herself.


	3. Josie

Wind passed through a vast, empty valley, ensnaring on its way the loose fabric of a dress; sending soft ripples through its mass. Passing benignly over feet, legs and waist, the gale altered and drove heavily against the features belonging to the former Mrs. Packard, as if saying farewell in the cruelest of ways. Josie noted the wind played in equal roughness with the lake and loose leaves. For a moment she'd thought she alone had felt its ferocity.

She shivered, crossing her arms. One hand slowly inching towards her shoulder, as if she wished a hand other than her own would touch her in such a way.

"Harry..."

Sheriff Truman stood a few feet from her, ankle deep in water, a group of small shells in his cupped hands. Hearing her voice he turned and, seeing her harrowed expression, rushed from the lake to a shore of sand and twigs. Casting aside the broken cases of life, he lovingly placed his dusted hands on her shoulders, drawing her closer. "What is it, Josie?"

Her painted lips tensed as she looked uneasily to her lover. "Nothing. Only that I don't think I should be here."

"What do you mean?"

"Looking into the water I see myself beneath the waves... alone... as a corpse."

"Oh Josie," Truman said, delicately pressing his mouth to her forehead then her lips.

"Make me see only you."

Harry embraced her, kissing from her shoulders to her neck in mindless patterns; until finally they both surrendered to the ground beside a large piece of driftwood.

Her head came to rest atop thousands of water-smoothed stones, her eyes opened to an endless sky. She let her fingers sink into the damp sand around her, digging as though she wished to unearth from an unseen womb an answer to her misbegotten existence.

Closing her eyes, she heard only the lapping water and Harry's breath as he pressed his head to her cheek. Loving her in ways beyond the body.

"Don't let me fall. Don't let me become trapped."

"I'll never let you go, Josie. Never," he said, touching her face, kissing her.


	4. Maddy

The evening sky was a folly red as Maddy entered the cemetery. Walking toward rows of glistening stones cast in the hue of roses, she found James Hurley in a darkened corner leaning against the trunk of an elm tree. He hadn't noticed her as he was staring into the palm of his open hand, deep in thought.

"James," she heard herself say and watched as he turned to her and grinned, unaware that he was thinking again of Laura, not Maddy.

She returned his smile, placing a finger to her stretched lips and a foot between two stones, treading a narrow strip of grass untouched by death. James followed, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. "Does Donna know you're here?"

"No," Maddy said, keeping her eyes on the earth before turning again to James. "Why do I have to receive her permission to see a friend?" she asked, extending a hand. Warily, he took it and they made their way to Laura's grave.

Maddy lowered to her knees when they came to stand above the freshly disturbed earth. The plaid skirt she'd borrowed from her cousin's closet pooling on the ground.

"Hey, Laura," Maddy murmured, waving her hand over the few blades of grass covering Laura's bed. Taking a handful of dirt and letting it fall as dust she said, "I miss you. We all miss you."

"This feels strange..." James half-smiled, feeling foolish.

"What's strange about it? She's here," Maddy said, looking to her fingers then to the branches swaying around them. "Can't you feel her?"

James looked at Maddy as though he might cry. He fought words as he was missing with all his being the girl who had berated him, who had told him she didn't love him. The tortured girl he'd never truly known but loved.

Maddy looked into his eyes. Touching his cheek she attempted to comfort him. He leaned into her palm and kissed at its side without thinking. Realizing what he'd done he backed away slightly, but Maddy wouldn't let him leave. "Don't you think Laura would let us know if she didn't want us to do this?"

His eyes stood with tears as he looked to his bent knee.

"James, look around you... now look inside: what do you feel? No one is asking you to do anything you don't want to."

His gaze shifted from the sky to a face that seemed it should not live. Running a finger over the side of Maddy's cheek he kissed her.

Steadying herself, Maddy placed a hand on the ground atop a wilted flower from Laura's grave.


	5. Sarah

Watching from the shadows she with regret stood behind glass; kissing the tips of her fingers and pressing them to the door as gently it closed shut.

She put a hand to her head then raked it over her face, slowly making her way toward a sofa before collapsing.

Sarah's mind was filled with memories of her daughter descending the same steps Maddy had just moments ago, a darkened path already laid out before her feet.

Sarah had been relatively blind to the world outside her house when Laura was alive, but now that she was gone the evil surrounding her, surrounding Twin Peaks, was all she could see. She had believed every lie and denied the truth.

And she was letting her sister's child disappear in the night.

She folded her legs to her chest and pretended the hovering specks of energy were her visiting daughter.

She fell in and out of wakefulness. When waking she, eyes webbed with tears, waited for sleep to take her again.

Anything to see Laura, even if only in dreams.

Her husband crept to her, cupping her head in his hand as he informed her dinner was ready.

She heard the door close at one point, but knew little else.


	6. Laura

I pulled hair away from the corners of her eyes and as I did a single strand caught in the crease of her mouth.

Turning a finger around the thin coil, I came closer, softly kissing the skin of her nose and chin, then finally her lips. Longingly, slowly... all while feeling partially vacant. Not because I didn't want Ronette, but because at the moment I didn't know if it was what she wanted or what I really needed. Backing away, I smoothed the remaining loose hair behind her ears, and looked over her face as she awkwardly smiled.

I asked her what was wrong and she said she wasn't feeling well. She placed a pillow from the sofa over her stomach. They started this afternoon she told me. _They_ meaning cramps.

I should have known, we're not too far apart.

From the floor I raised and made my way to her record player. She didn't have many LPs within sight, so I went with what was readily available. Lowering the needle, I stood and listened to the soft static before the stereo came to life. Then, walking into the kitchen without saying a word, I took a couple of beers out of the fridge and grabbed my purse. Ronette looked at me kind of strangely when I came back, but she didn't say anything either. The Dubs' _Could This Be Magic _was the only sound in the room.

I took a seat on the cushion next to her, opened my purse, removed a little plastic bag and placed a mirror in her hand. She did a line and leaned back. We kind of stumbled through the feeling, laying really close together, faces just inches apart as I ran my hand over the back of her neck and arms. Kissing her is all I can really remember. We were out for some time.

After we came down, we just stayed on the sofa, whispering occasionally. I massaged her belly, just as mom has done for me. And it was so nice, just taking care of her like that... Really, it felt like I was the one being taken care of. Alone with her for a few hours without BOB taunting me... it didn't seem real.

_IT PROBABLY WASN'T._


	7. Harriet and Gersten

A flame haired girl caressed the underbelly of a leaf on a leaning branch, waiting as her sister paced between the trunks of thin, huddled trees, lost under their darkened canopy.

Gersten knew asking Harriet to leave was pointless, so she placed her weight on a smoothed stump. Putting her feet closer together, she buttoned her sweater and leaned forward, removing her homework from her book bag.

Harriet strayed from the clearing of her sister and passed a group of briars living at the mouth of the wood. She found within their circle a small stretch of earth crowded with stone. Climbing atop the lowest surface of the barrier, she looked over and to the floor of the shallow pit. The ground was made entirely of uneven rocks, moss and fallen limbs. Stretching her legs over the impairments, she made her way inside this rocky nest. With the amount of greenery covering the seclusion Gersten wouldn't be able to see her from the outside. She would be free to write her feelings as best she could without interruption.

* * *

After an hour had passed Gersten called into the woods.

Silence met her.

She gathered her things, and against her wishes, raised from her seat so she could enter the leafy realm. Her feet dragged the ground as she half-heartedly looked for the orange and pinks of her sister's patchwork dress.

Gersten continued to drag her feet through the thickened pile of leaves. Above she saw a ceiling of vibrant gold, red, orange, green and an owl watching from a high branch.

"Harriet? Please come out if you can hear me." Gersten stopped, she thought she heard someone whisper her name. Turning in every direction she found no one.

There was nothing, nothing before her only countless trees and building shadow.

Suddenly the owl swooped from the branch and in front of the girl, frightening her and causing her to fall. Her cries fell on deaf ears, save for the owl, for her sister couldn't hear as she'd fallen asleep.

Harriet dreamt of the forest and of lurking fear. Fear in the shape of a man who stood at the trunk of a tree, rope in his hand.


	8. The Log Lady

_Further into the shadows of branches,  
__you see them covering their inner workings in colors of a different light._  
_Staring deeper still, you become part of the workings._  
_A want to fall. A want to soar. A want to become whole._  
_Only those who take time notice that they bend, seeking escape._  
_Their cry is music.  
Listen, listen with your heart and you will hear it._

Margaret was standing outside the Twin Peaks Post Office studying a large tree beside the building. It was magnificently large and unreal in the dull, blue glow after the sunset. She liked the way the tree looked. She liked how staring at it calmed her, calmed the log.

She stroked the rounded end of her log, bowing her head. Without moving, she looked toward Eileen Hayward who had overheard what she'd just said.

Eileen gripped the armrests of her wheelchair, willing herself to leave but going nowhere.

"Do you hear it?"

Eileen shook her head, "No, Margaret. I don't."

"It's there. You choose not to hear. I can hear it. The log can hear it."

Eileen momentarily closed her eyes, as if hoping once she opened them Margaret would no longer be within sight. Pressing a button on her chair, she turned, moving herself into the Post Office.

Margaret looked back into the tree, its branches catching and moving with the wind.

The streets remained vacant as Margaret waited.


	9. Denise

**A/N:** This might seem far-fetched, but I am sticking with the idea that Audrey didn't know.  
The mention of therapy is a from "The Black Widow" script.

* * *

Denise bent to scratch a foot suspended beyond the end of her mattress. Stockings already thrown asunder, her jacket came next, landing over the back of a chair. Pulling her dress over head, she sat crossed legged in a black slip, the Talking Heads' _Crosseyed and Painless _beating away on the radio.

There was a knock at the door and Denise searched the room for her robe. Once found she tied it around her waist and slowly opened the door.

She saw Audrey Horne standing in the hall beyond. Raven-hair; red lips and talcum powder face. The fierce doll looked up as the door opened, and Denise shivered inwardly, thinking Coop an incredibly lucky man.

Audrey's saddened eyes searched Denise's features for an almost awkward length before she caught herself. "Agent..."

"Bryson," Denise finished for her.

"Bryson," she smiled, "right. Well, Agent Bryson -"

"Oh please, you're a friend of Coop's, call me Denise," she grinned, waving a hand.

"Denise," Audrey repeated, now a faintly irritated. "Would you like a complementary slice of pie before you go to sleep?"

"Pie?"

"Yes. Huckleberry."

Denise laughed, thinking it must be part of some sort of Twin Peaks ritual. "Sure."

Audrey bit her lower lip, checking the room over before handing the plate to Denise. She was there to spy, to get a better idea of this woman. That was it.

"So..." she turned her foot sideways, fingers laced behind her, "how long have you known Agent Cooper?"

Denise thought a few seconds. "Since 1987... why?"

"No reason," Audrey began to chew on her lip again. "Just wondered."

Denise pulled a chair out beside her bed and sat down, propping her bare feet on the bed. "You may come in if you want," she offered. "I won't bite."

Audrey walked into the room and rather cautiously sat on the edge of the strange woman's bed, trying to act more grown-up than she felt.

"I'd love to hear more about your past with Agen- with Dale."

"Not much to say. We worked together on a few cases... But Agent Cooper knew me as Dennis, he's just getting to know Denise," she flipped her long hair, smacking her lips as she grinned. "You know, I think I really shocked him, showing up like this."

"You're a man?!" Audrey, without meaning to, let her surprise show. She could have laughed, in fact she did a little. _There was no reason to be jealous!_

"Well, yes, technically, but I'm in a program... Gender Relocation Inhibition Therapy," Denise said, slicing into the pie with the side of her fork. She paused and peered through her bangs as the girl remained silent. "Oh, sweetie... you don't mean to tell me it never crossed your mind that I am anything other than female?!"

"Well, I..."

Audrey felt Denise wrap her strong arms around her, hugging her before she'd had a chance to put her foot in her mouth. "Oh, sorry," Denise said, realizing herself and releasing Audrey. "I try my hardest, but I always worry that I just end up looking like a guy in a dress. You've made my day."

"You've mine too, Denise," Audrey grinned, "I'm happy to have met you."

"Ditto, kid."

"You know, my father owns Horne's Department Store. Why don't you and I make a trip there tomorrow for a different pair of shoes," Audrey nodded to Agent Bryson's abused feet. "I'll snatch any pair you want. Free of charge."

"I might just take you up on that."


	10. Donna

_"Be not fond of the dull smoke-colored light from hell." - Tibetan Book of the Dead _

* * *

Donna Hayward followed the black-and-white chevron path made known to her after the death of her best friend.

Desperation and fear leapt in bounds from her core. Faceless demons swarmed with her every breath and uneven step, to suckle on the fevered beats of her heart; siphoning fear.

Her eyes tarried to the endless curtains of the hallway and the silhouetted, hovering shadows shifting in spasms of ecstasy against the backing light of an unseen abyss. Her weakened hands, moving independently, forced apart a section of suspended scarlet and Donna found within its casing a room containing three chairs, two lamps and a table. Blinking, Donna selected the lone chair cast in coal velvet.

Pulses of white light bathed the room, washing over as if the exhale of lightening. As quickly as darkness was cast, full brilliancy once more flooded the area, leaving the fading echoes of chaos to exist only as darting blue and gold shadows in Donna's eyes.

Slightly dizzy, she stayed in place and tried to determine if she was indeed hearing soft instrumental music from another room.

Laura Palmer materialized in the violet aftermath beside Donna, wearing a long black dress with a diamond detail at the bosom. She set her eyes upon something in the distance, then slowly broke from her trance to look to her friend. ".em fo lluf era yeht, sessalag yM"

Laura pointed toward the drapes then to the floor. A trail of blood had appeared, leading out of the room. Laura looked fixedly upon Donna, as though she was trying to press the importance of the blood.

"Yours?" Donna tearfully asked.

".ON" She contorted an arm so that it pointed to a silhouette behind the curtain. ".sedih dneirf yM"

Donna looked to the curtains and saw the outline of a man. Slowly she turned to Laura again, as though this unknown figure wasn't worrisome.

Laura placed her crossed fingers to rest on her knees, her eyes on Donna as if through them she could wordlessly transfer the yearnings of her soul.

Many minutes passed until Laura rose from her chair, the hem of her dress clutched between her red nails. She placed a hand on Donna's shoulder and spoke closely to her face, ".t'ndluow I tahw tpeccA .ni evol tel ton dluow I" She kissed Donna's check and backed slowly away, a small smile on her face.

Donna watched as Laura disappeared only to reappear again in the same spot, though opaque, with dark hair and whitened pupils. This Laura - or was it Maddy? - dissolved without saying a word. But a strange, haunting scream filtered through the air as soon as she was gone.

Donna raised to leave, but fell backwards - pushed by some invisible force. With reddened eyes she searched the room, waiting to be released.

Within minutes that could have been hours a suit clad child in a white mask jumped into the velvet cell. Spotting Donna he stopped, as though unprepared to meet her. Turning on his heel he, as if a bird, hopped away; his silhouette swaying between black and red in the light beyond the curtains.

A shadow flew past the other side of the room, an unknown shape, wilting and as limp as a battered flag. The curtains parted once more, and Donna saw the little boy's mask peer again between the folds. He stepped into the room and lifted the white pin-nosed circle to reveal, to Donna's upset, the face of the studying magician, Pierre Tremond. ".lrig ecin yrev a ekil demees uoY" He snapped his fingers. ".taht ekiL tusJ" His hand began to shake violently, and soon dabs of creamed corn fell from the ends of his fingers and to the floor. Donna watched as the corn disappeared into thin air as though the floor absorbed it. ".aizobnomraG" Pierre said dully, before taking hold of the end of his jacket and merrily darting out of the room. Drops of another soul's blood shadowing his footfall.

Donna woke to the sound of an alarm clock.

It took her a few seconds to realize that everything she'd seen was a dream as her pulse was throbbing through her fingers, her neck. She could have cried, but as she inhaled and looked out the window, she saw the sun between branches. Memories of James flooded back. Of happiness.

Moving her hand, she took hold of her comforter, placing its coolness to the side of her face and as she did she realized she had something wrapped as a ring around her little finger. It was a piece of torn notebook paper. She unrolled it and the message read: _J'ai une ame solitaire. _Specks of blood were visible along the edges and in one corner they merged to make a perfect newsprint _E. _


	11. Annie

Despite asking him to leave, his face was always there. And he'd started haunting her dreams.

One dream had been set in the convent. She'd been praying in a bare room that didn't exist in the building she knew, when Agent Cooper entered. He was unclothed, though her subconscious wouldn't allow her to see the section of existence beneath his pale waist.

He calmly kneeled before her, his knees meeting her own, and took her hand, smothering it lovingly before leaning in to kiss her lips. His every movement was slow, deliberate, as of one registering all. She thought through this movement he was extracting her very heart. A heart which had drastically swelled, reaching outer layers where it didn't belong in order to be closer to the palm of his hand - and in length - closer to the foreign, beating heart she wished to become housed within. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, her body weakened as she was ushered to the floor.

She woke shortly afterwards, but could still feel the vividness of the dream; its strength remained in the pit of her stomach all day, gnawing away.

She didn't mean to dream of him that way... but then she couldn't truthfully say she minded it either... But it was wrong, she shouldn't.

Annie slipped two fingers into the handle of a cup and submerged it under water. _Stop thinking of him. Stop wanting him. _

The image of Agent Cooper urgently pressing her against a brick wall, kissing her flashed before her eyes.

"Stop it!" she said out loud.

"Annie? Everything alright?" Norma asked, peeking through the door.

"Yep," Annie wiped a dry hand over her forehead, "just trying to focus."

"Well, I need you to come out here. Agent Cooper and one of his FBI friends just walked in."

She closed her eyes and felt her stomach lurch.


End file.
